The Firehouse Inspection Service!
by artisanrox
Summary: The Mayor is pressured by certain organizations to check up on how the boys do their business...but oh, how he does it!  OH NO!  Rated for Janine's and Peter's mouths.  A RGB Fanfic.   Pairz:E/J,P/OC, and Winston/Ecto-1.
1. Chapter 1

Note: As in my other stories about the 'Busters, canon for me is Ghostbusters movie 1, and anything written by, approved by, or sneezed upon by J. Michael Straczynski. Everything else is just _cannon fodder_. Heck, if Aykroyd and Ramis can continually go against _**their own canon**_, I think I can just toss out what I see as nonsense, too.

Thanks to "E/J E/E TJ/JC" at the Ectozone forums for noticing my neglect of mocking the idea of the Junior Ghostbusters in my previous story, _The Damocles Solution_. Within here is your JGB mocking, served cold, just for you!

That's my story and I'm stickin' to it!

The Firehouse Inspection Service!

Chapter 1. The Announcement!

"Hey, guys, knock it off. I gotta make sure Ecto-1's back to her glorious original beauty. You saw how hard she took that last job we were on, didn't ya?" said Winston in his own defense.

Ray grinned, packing away the tools he was using to give the car another look-over before they got called out again. "If you buff that spot any more, you're gonna wear a hole in the hood!" He watched Winston pass the chamois cloth over the same area on the hood. Again.

The dark man had been crouching next to the car, looking ever so closely at the spot being buffed, closing one eye, then the other, in turns. He would have probably popped out an eyeball and placed it right on the newly _re_ -repaired hood of their faithful vehicle if he only could. "Ooooh, yeah. That should do it. Gonna be ready for anything now!" he said, winking and giving the hood a thumbs-up into his own polished reflection, before rising to his full height and neatly folding and storing the chamois.

Walking toward the stairs, out of the corner of his eye, Winston caught sight of a quickly-moving green blob coming out of the kitchen. _Yep_, he thought. There was Slimer, flying through the air at top speed, carrying a large metallic tray with his little hands, babbling victoriously.

And, yup…there was Peter behind him, screaming at the top of his lungs for the ghost to drop the precious tray containing Mrs. Faversham's homemade lasagna, and right NOW! _Immediately!_

Slimer flew around, seemingly solely to get the most rise out of the psychologist that he could, nimbly staying just out of reach of Peter's grabby hands.

He flew up the stairs, with Peter following, then down.

When he flew over Ecto-1 however, Winston started to get a little nervous. "'ey, Slimer! I just polished the car, so be careful where you drag Peter around to, alright?"

After an exasperated "_WHAT_?" from Peter, Slimer stopped in midair above the hood of the vehicle, giving Winston a huge grin and a thumbs-up. Peter took the moment Slimer stopped moving as an opportunity to glare viciously at the little ghost.

"Hand back that tray, or I'll start dual-wielding traps to bring you back here! NOW!"

Slimer flinched when he saw Peter's hands coming toward him, and with a spray of ectoplasm, flew toward the kitchen area again.

And Winston also flinched and put a palm to his face when he turned on the stairs, only to see the green goo fall from the sky, and splat directly on that spot of Ecto-1 he just got done polishing.

With a sigh, Winston gripped the railing, stopped on the stairs in mid-step. He covered half of his face with a palm. "I am NOT gonna clean that. I am NOT gonna clean that. I'm NOT gonna let that spot bother me."

"You really shouldn't, Winston," offered Ray. "He's only having a little fun! It's cute!"

"Yeah, man. He's real cute…until you gotta clean up the mess."

Peter slid to a halt at the bottom of the stairs with an upraised fist, eyeing Slimer again who had now disappeared into the bunk room. "That's what I keep TELLING you guys! But nooooooooooooo! 'Peter!'" he said with silly pursed lips, "'Wook at him! He's soooo cuuuute!' 'Peter, awww! Wittle Swimer is just having a widdle fun!'" he said, mocking the two most guilty of constantly saying that verbal crime—the two who had just finished reparing and polishing the Ecto-1.

Slimer popped his head out the bunkroom, and gave Peter the loudest raspberry he ever made in his un-life.

"You just wait, spud! You get any a' yer gook on that lasagna, and your days are NUMBERED! JUST…WAIT!" he yelled, jumping two and three stairs at a time past Winston, who kept repeating "I am NOT gonna let that spot on the car bother me."

With his shoulders falling, Winston turned, unable to resist the impulse to get rid of the ectoplasm off the hood of the car, and headed back over to the closet in resignation to retrieve the paper towels and chamois cloth. Of course, to Ray's unbridled amusement.

Peter only got halfway up the stairs this time before Slimer flew down towards the kitchen again. Following him, Peter grunted in rage, and jumped down sets of stairs again, raced around Janine's desk, and stopped to glare again as the green ghost stuck out his tongue from behind the secretary's chair.

Janine sighed, rolled her eyes, and shifted more paperwork around. "Typical day."

"That's it! I'm grabbing two…or three! Or four traps! You're gettin' it, ghost!"

Slimer started toward the kitchen, and Peter was close behind, not even watching that he wouldn't run over Egon, who was quietly sitting on the floor at the secretary's feet, his back propped up by a side of her desk.

Egon pulled in his long legs just in time as Peter raced by him. Never taking his eyes off the PKE meter he was adjusting, he turned his mouth halfway up wryly. "It would be best to remove the entrée from Slimer's PKE-encrusted digits first before attempting to use a trap. I calculate there is an 80% chance that struggling against the pull of a trap would only result in the upset of said entrée, therefore making any attempts to rescue it not only a moot point, but also a big mess."

Peter stopped again in his tracks only for a moment to growl "You and your technicalities…" to the blonde physicist before bolting toward the kitchen again with a yell.

Egon grinned to himself, and Janine stifled a giggle. _That boy really knows how to pour salt on a wound!_ she thought to herself. _I'm soooo proud of him!_

A knock was heard at the doors, and with a piercingly yelled "DOOR'S OPEEEEEEN!" from their red-headed secretary, one of them swung in , and in walked a beautiful woman in a businessey, navy blue pinstriped, skirted suit.

"My! What an _unprofessional _way to let someone in the doors of your business!" said their guest. She flipped her luxuriously long dirty-blonde locks with one hand only after releasing for a moment the hand of a small girl, who in turn gripped a large teddy bear in one of her tiny arms. The tall woman tapped her full pink lips with a finger, cocking her eyes upwards in thought. "I'll make a note of this for the mayor!"

She clip-clopped in her perfect navy pumps over to Janine's desk, and _plopped_ her dusty-pink briefcase heavily on it, the sound causing Egon to straighten a bit, draw his eyes up from the meter to their corners, and his eyebrows in.

Janine shot up from her chair. "'ey, lady! Whatchathink yer doin' at my workstation?" she barked.

Across the garage, Ray's eyes shot wide open. "Oh no!" he whispered in horror, in a way that only Winston standing next to him could hear.

Winston straightened from polishing off the last of Slimer's mess from the hood of the Ecto-1. "What's up Ray?" he whispered back. "You recognize her? Is she a ghost? A siren? A banshee?" He walked casually over the closet and cooly unearthed a PKE meter. After flipping a few dials, he looked back up at the occultist. "Hm. She's not supernatural. What gives?"

Ray's complexion went white as a sheet. "You don't know the bad feeling I have about this, Winston," said the redheaded 'Buster, accompanying Winston toward Janine's desk. "I know who that is! This is worse than ten Gozers! That…that's—!"

"Mrs. Justine Cosser!" said the tall woman brightly to the secretary, opening up her briefcase and getting out a yellow legal pad and a pink pen. "And please refer to me only as Mrs. Cosser! I'm here today on official business from two different sources!" She turned her attention to the little girl aside her, and pointed toward Janine's chair. "Madisonne Bryttnye, I think this, ahem, nice lady here would be more than happy if you sat down in her chair and behaved like a good little girl."

Winston leaned over to Ray. "And who, perchance, is this exactly?"

Ray sighed in worry. "We...just…_ran into her_ while looking for Slimer, who ran away from us when he got upset a couple months ago. She had some pretty silly-sounding suggestions to make our work into an animated series. She said she works in the legal business, and she has connections to everything from high-end lawyers to TV station executives!"

Winston nodded, his expression becoming more concerned hearing that description.

"Mommy, this is Janine! I love Janine. Can I talk to Janine?" asked the little girl with the teddy bear adorably, climbing in the chair behind the desk. She was oblivious to the secretary's gaze turning from flattered and pitifully confused toward the little girl, to vengeful and poisonous toward her mother.

"Mommy is here on work right now, sweetie," said Justine to her daughter. "You can…ah…maybe talk to Janine when Mommy's done," she added, entirely not comfortable with that concept. "Oh!" exclaimed Mrs. Cosser to herself, with a swing of her blonde locks. "I still have to talk to your father for taking you and the two boys to see that Ghostbusters movie!"

"Awwwww," said the little girl, looking down to the floor.

Egon, in the meantime, had straightened to his full height, placed the PKE meter on the desk, and pocketed his hands. "Do you have any documentation to support this claim?" he asked incredulously.

Mrs. Cosser gazed at Egon, transfixed. "Why…if it isn't Dr. Spengler. I finally get to see you up close…and…_personal_." She made her way over to him, looking him up and down. "Bearer of multiple doctorates, designer of all the Ghostbusters' equipment," she continued, curling around him as he stood stiffly. "Graduate of MIT…in _grade school_," she purred, accidentally brushing up against him, which made his eyes open wide and forced him to catch his breath.

Ray and Winston turned around to each other, sticking out their tongues to mimic severe nausea.

Janine made fists with her hands, glaring at the woman murderously. "He asked for YOUR paperwork, not HIS, you damned floozie!" She saw out of the corner of her eye, that Peter was, strangely, standing at the doorway to the kitchen, his hands in his pockets, watching the proceedings like a hawk. And for some reason, she knew that this was very good.

Mrs. Cosser shot a beaurocratic, half-lidded look back at their secretary. "I'm here on some business from the mayor, and from a reputable mothers' organization, for your information!" Before curling around Egon again and returning to her briefcase, she lifted a hand up, and brushed his lower back ever so delicately, causing the physicist to wince and grind his teeth, looking almost like he was recoiling in pain.

Janine whispered his name, seeing his discomfort, and sat on her desk, right next to where he was standing. She riveted her glare again on Mrs. Cosser, and crossed her arms defiantly as the woman brought out some documents form her briefcase.

Mrs. Cosser flipped her hair. "Not to mention that _I_ have been deleriously and happily married for fifteen years! _And_, anyway, getting down to my business here, I'm here representing, first of all, 'Women Advocating Age-appropriate Animation in the Home', or WAAAH for short!" she winked at Egon. "I'm the chairwoman!"

Winston nudged Ray. "I don't think I'd wanna be the chairperson of anything that sounds remotely like that." Ray nodded.

By now, Mrs. Cosser was holding two separate packets of paperwork, each stapled neatly together. "And I am also representing, as I said, the mayor! I'm here to review and observe your business operations, suggest improvements, address safety issues, and update your office décor before the City considers using your business again for future tax-funded missions!"

"Update the office décor?" quietly parroted Ray in confusion, looking at Winston and only getting a shoulder shrug for an answer.

Mrs. Cosser presented the paperwork to Egon, who took it…however, she did not release it until she ran her hand up Egon's hand, massaging it lightly. "I'm sure you'll find my credentials as spotless as yours, Dr. Spengler."

Egon, now looking irreparably violated, tried pulling back his arm, and found that Mrs. Cosser was refusing to release the paperwork to him, and a brief struggle ensued. She continued to stroke his arm, working her way up to his tan rolled-up cuff sleeve. "You can call the mayor anytime you like. The private line to call about my work is…in here," she whispered to him.

Janine's face had been glowing a nuclear shade of red for a while now, and just before she could bat away the woman's arm and launch a merciless verbal assault on her, Peter walked up to the suited woman calmly, grinning broadly at things only he could fathom.

"Mrs. Cosserrrrr!" he drawled, taking the hand she was using to stroke Egon's arm, causing her to get distracted and finally release the paperwork in the other hand to the tall physicist, who pulled it away with a flourish and bared teeth. "I remember meeting you and your adoooooooorable children on that day when we ran into each other when Ray and I were looking for…for…well, yanno." He unceremoniously thumbed back toward the kitchen, where Slimer had appeared in the doorway, throwing a corner of lasagna into his mouth.

"Agh!" Slimer announced, squeaking wordlessly.

Peter lifted her hand up to his mouth. "Gosh, look at us. I never got to give you a proper introduction, now did I?" He grinned slyly. "But someone like you, and someone like me, needs no introductions, right?"

"How true, Dr. Vankman! How true," she said, grinning broadly back at his attention.

He kissed her hand. For quite a while. While doing so, Mrs. Cosser jumped, her eyes going wide. She released an unconscious little _ooooh_ in pleasure and she could feel more than just his lips brushing against her.

Janine and Egon both turned green at the thought of Peter doing…well, what Peter was doing. Ray rolled his eyes. Winston, with his hands on his hips, looked like he was was ready to explode into a fatherly tirade for some odd reason, which was undoubtedly _extremely_ unusual for him.

"I am beginning to think this project will turn out wonderfully, Dr. Venkman. I really do!" she said, winking now at the psychologist.

"This paperwork looks official, however I will be making a call or two to confirm this," said Egon irritatedly. "According to what I'm reading here, this documentation gives you full reign to adjust any portion of our operations according to your prepared written statements submitted to the mayor's office. Am I correct?"

"Well, yes. Of course," answered Mrs. Cosser, her irritation now directed at what she now considered the cold and cruel Dr. Spengler.

Egon scowled at the paperwork he was riffling through. "After so many successful missions and work from all over the world, I consider your involvement in this business superfluous, contemptuous, and downright laughable, Mrs. Cosser."

Mrs. Cosser looked down the bridge of her nose. "Then I am certain you'll realize the importance of my poisiton here, when I tell you that the mayor is aware of your special arrangement with the power company in regards to maintaining your…what's it called…er…abstainment unit?"

"_Containment _unit!" growled Egon deeply, through his clenched teeth.

She shook her luscious dirty blonde locks, to Peter's enjoyment. "Well, that paperwork says that if you resist my suggestions, or hinder my involvement, that all I have to do to get that power shut off is to make one phone call to the mayor's office!" She cocked her head, smiling devilishly.

Ray and Winston gasped in horror, and Janine whispered Egon's name, grabbing his arm in worry.

"Unconscienable," whispered Egon.

"Ah, Spengs, guys. Don't worry. I'm sure it won't be that bad," said Peter, to everyone's fury. He picked up Mrs. Cosser's hand and held it as he spoke. "I'm suuuuuuure such a beautiful, brilliant, family-oriented young lady would only be doing such an unpopular job out of her concern over the future generation. Am I right, Missus Cosser?" he asked, with a sultry pout of his lips.

Mrs. Cosser threw her head back with a smile again. "Well! We have one Ghostbuster who seems to be making the correct decision." Pointing at each of the four men in turn, she continued. "Now. The plan is, I inspect every inch of this firehouse, and then I will return again with any materials you'll need to implement the new improvements suggested!" She closed her eyes and smiled. "And then I am to go on one call with you to observe your work in the field, in the middle of ghostbusting. I think it's a wonderful plan, don't you?"

Peter's next question was the only thing that prevented a round of cricket sounds as her answer. "Sooooo. What part of our humble little business would you like to see first, Mrs. Cosser?"

She turned to him, obviously not minding at all that he still held her hand. "I'd like to see the Detrainment Unit, please!" She called her daughter to her, and held her hand.

Peter smiled, and led her and her daughter to the stairs. "Oh, suuuuuure. That's in the basement. I'll take ya there," he said with a wink.

She shrunk back a bit. "The basement?" She shook her head. "Oh…then OK. I don't really like scary dark underground places, but I'll do it, for the good of the children!"

"No problem," cooed Peter, wrapping an arm around her, leading her down the stairs. "Just let good ol' Dr. V protect ya when it gets really scary, and you'll be fine!"

Egon didn't turn toward them, but spoke over his shoulder. "Peter, you are absolutely _forbidden_ to instruct her how to use the containment unit."

Peter was ready with an answer, but Mrs. Cosser had one ready first. "Oh, don't _worry_, Doctor Spengler," she said with a tone of hostility. "I don't _care _how it works! I am just concerned about whether it's safely signed, childproofed, and understandably labelled!"

As they disappeared below the floor, Ray repeated the word "childproofed?" to himself, completely baffled.

Janine, wearing the same searing expression as Egon, let a curse fly, and held Egon's arm tighter. "This is so many sides of wrong, I don't even know where to start."

Winston slapped his hands to his head, looking like he was ready to blow in fury. "I do! Guys! I canNOT believe that! What part of _MISSUS_ or _MARRIED WOMAN_ doesn't that guy understand!"


	2. Chapter 2

The Firehouse Inspection Service!

Chapter 2. The Assignment!

The garage floor of the firehouse had been redone in an obnoxious bright yellow, and large, styrofoam shapes, A B Cs and numbers were scattered all around its walls. Mrs. Cosser, walking around with a small tape recorder in one hand, and her dusty-pink briefcase in the other, took in the sights of the recently redone interior with pleasure. She hit a button on the recorder, and promptly decided to vehemently ignore anyone who would dare try to get her attention while she spoke into it.

"This recording is to be distributed to WAAAH and to our esteemed mayor's office. I note that as of this day, changes were implemented to the Ghostbusters headquarters in an effort to lessen workplace accidents, and to encourage interaction from the youngest ones in our society. In one day, the interior of the garage level has been made more suitable for children. The walls have been repainted to a fun, sunny-yellow color, and educational material has been nicely and artistically scattered around the perimeter."

She made it over to Janine's desk, and peered over it at all the paperwork in it, much to the extreme displeasure of Egon. He was seated once again at the floor of Janine's desk, but now was dressed in a blue uniform that could easily be taken as one worn by the police, complete with official-looking badges, a pair of handcuffs at his belt, and a gold stripe down his navy-blue trousers.

He had flat-out refused Mrs. Cosser on many occasions to sit anywhere else, citing the fact that the paperwork given to Mrs. Cosser in no way dictates where the Ghostbusters are to be seated in the firehouse during either active or off-hours. It did nothing but further provoke her fury, which she poured into the recording upon seeing his dirty look directed at her.

"We have taken off the sharp corners of things wherever possible, using the highest quality bubble-wrap that could be found in the tri-state area."

Egon glared up from the floor by Janine's desk as she continued, and tried to shift around, his back squeaking and popping layers and layers of bubble wrap that now surrounded her desk.

Peter, lazily listening in where possible, now wore a complete outfit done in silver studs and black leather that would have done any Harley owner proud. He leaned back in his chair, and shifted his black-leather-booted feet, popping a few layers of bubble wrap on his own desk by doing so. "Hey Spengs," he called, making sure the suited woman was out of earshot, "save those handcuffs for me, cuz I might know someone who'll be needing 'em with me…yanno, if a _certain redheaded someone else_ won't need 'em on _you _and all," he said, licking his lips devilishly, and thumbing towards the restroom.

Egon blushed deep scarlet, his cheeks matching the rims of his glasses, at the mortifyingly raunchy implication of that statement, then snorted in deep offense. He continued to look at the restroom door, where Janine had disappeared into to change into her new, government-and-Cosser-mandated uniform, and rolled his eyes.

"I have also made sure that the Restrainment Unit in the scary basement has been properly signed and taped," she said, strolling closer over to where Ray and Winston were cleaning the interior of the Ecto-1. "Also, child safety gates have been installed in numerous places on each staircase, so as to protect little ones from accidentally doing something awful, such as pulling off a button and eating it!"

Ray, who was working on Ecto-1's interior for a change, whispered to Winston next to him on hearing her. "She's got that right…have you seen the containment unit? The whole basement is done in emergency yellow!"

"Yeah, I was down there once already to put some spare PKE meters from the closets away. Can't even see the buttons on the thing now cuz of all the stupid warning labels!"

"And how 'bout these new uniforms? How the heck are we supposed to carry packs with these?" Ray tipped his cowboy hat, and adjusted his vest, emblazoned with a cheap Lone Star sheriff pin on it. He arranged the fringes on his chaps, as they were getting badly tangled. And as much as he enjoyed watching Westerns, he really thought that lasso on his belt was a little…much.

Winston, dressed in what seemed to be a traditional Native American costume, fluffed his large headdress back, as it barely fit under the roof of the Ecto-1 while on his head. He looked irritatedly down on the floor of the car, now riddled with fallen feathers. "I'm tellin' ya, that wacky lady and the government's not even involved with us for one day, and our firehouse looks like Romper Room, and we look like the dang Village People!" He sneezed, and more feathers flew all over the place.

"She's got the containment unit hanging over our heads! Egon called about it—she's completely legit! We can't run the risk of the power to it getting shut off!" Ray sighed in worry. "As much as I'd love to call their bluff, too, it doesn't take much to figure out that it would be a worldwide cataclysm if all those things in there would be released…capturing them in the first place makes them even angrier than when they roam around free!" He rubbed the back of his head in utter consternation. "I just can't believe it would be like this the next time we saw her!"

The two of them flinched when they heard Mrs. Cosser's voice right aside of them in the car window. "The men's uniforms have been changed from those subtly supporting unsavory alternative forms of government. They have been replaced with uniforms that encourage social awareness, embrace many nationalities and social classes, and hint that authority figures are to be supported in every way!"

Ray and Winston exchanged a pained look, shifted uncomfortably in their new uniforms, and sighed, thoroughly disgusted.

Mrs. Cosser continued, making her way over to Janine's desk again. "Large name tags will soon be provided, as the Ghostbusters seemed to have fallen out of the practice of using prominently displayed names on their uniforms, which is a clear message to viewers that see their work on the news media that they are more than happy to dodge individual responsibility for their actions."

"And speaking of uniforms," elaborated Mrs. Cosser, "the first set has been provided to the Ghostbusters, their ghost, and their secretary, free of charge, by the immeasurable generosity of WAAAH and the mayor's office. Afterwards, the uniform cost will solely be shouldered by the Ghostbusters..."

As she babbled on, Janine opened the restroom door, and took a few uncomfortable steps out. "I canNOT believe I have to wear…THIS," she said, appalled. Trying desperately to stay upright in her too-high heels, she stopped to complain to Peter. "What screwball in the government said that I should be dressed like a _French maid_ while doing my job?"

"A screwball with a rather _excellent_ taste in feminine clothing," replied Peter, with a suggestive sideglance at her frilly decolletage.

She put her hands on her hips, infuriated by his wandering glance. "This is outrageous! I can't even walk straight because I don't _ever_ wear heels this high! You tell that broad to get lost immediately! We shouldn't have to—"

"Aaah," he said, waving his hand dismissively at her. "I'm sure if we ignore her, she'll go away."

With an exasperated moaned cry, she turned and made her way clumsily over to her bubble-wrapped desk, making an effort to stomp as much as she could. "Uggghhh! That pig! Anything to keep a girl in these kindsa-!"

Soon enough, she felt a high heel stick into a perfectly high-heel-shaped hole in the floor, and found herself tipping over.

Not even having time to cry out before hitting the hardwood floor, she instinctively held her arms out in preparation to make her fall as painless as possible.

All she saw was the floor coming at her at light speed.

Right before contact with the ground, she stopped suddenly, with a loud "oof!". Looking around, she realized that she landed on something rather…slender, but also rather meatily muscled. It was _definitely_ too comfortable and warm to be the floor.

She felt arms around her waist, and looked up—into Egon's face.

He looked down worried at her…after all, he had broken her fall.

"Janine—" he breathed, his face turning a thousand shades of bright red. "Are…you…?"

She attempted to right herself, but still clung to him heavily. "You look very handsome in that cop outfit, I gotta say," she whispered, looking far up and drawing her fingers lightly across his fake police badge.

At a loss for words, and desperately trying _not_ to think of Peter's lewd suggestive statement earlier, or that adorably cute outfit she wore, or those layers upon layers of fascinating ruffles under her skirt—he shook his head with a wince, and proceeded to walk her over to her desk. Before sitting down, she gave him another unstable-footed hug. "Thank you so much, Egon." Looking up at him as she sat, she couldn't help but add, "and if there was one thing that would have made this whole ridiculous circus worth it, that woulda been it!"

He blushed again, and cleared his throat loudly before resuming his position on the floor at her desk. He fiddled desperately with the PKE meter again, of course, only after loosening his navy tie, and undoing two or three buttons on his dressy shirt.

Next time he looked up, he was staring right at a pinstriped skirt.

He looked farther up, into Mrs. Cosser's steamed, angry face. Strange, he thought, that he even forgot she was there for a few moments!

She _humphed _obnoxiously before continuing. "The _next _projects on the agenda," she said into her little silver recorder,with a stamp of her heel, "are: number one, to see the Ghostbusters in action and suggest improvements to their capture methods. Two, to give solutions as to how to handle personal conflicts at the workplace, and three, to establish professional, safe boundaries for—"

"Ring a ding!" singsonged Peter, interrupting Mrs. Cosser loudly enough to make her switch off the recording device.

Sure enough, the phone rang, and Janine answered it, grabbed a pen, and immediately began scribbling down notes. Seeing her do so, Winston and Ray hurried over to the secretary's desk to find out about the call.

"Ah'right. Kay. You're—who?" she asked incredulously. After a pause, she began again. "Is this some weirdo crank or somethin'?" Another pause later, she began writing again. "OK, and ya called this thing up and now ya…_what_ again wazzat?" She rolled her eyes up towards the ceiling and listened, kicking her leg for a few seconds and tapping the receiver with her forefinger. "Mmmkay, we'll be in touch with ya."

She ripped out the page from her notebook, and held it out in the air. Soon enough, Peter came around her desk, and took it away from her wordlessly.

After mumbling many complaints about _not being able to read shorthand_, and _she does this on purpose just to tick me off_, Peter then handed it immediately down to Egon, who scanned it once, reading aloud slower and slower in disbelief. "The 'Cult of Nyx' has asked for us to eliminate something they have…called up that they…could not handle?"

Winston huffed. "I would take that call as one big fat joke, gentlemen."

"They want to meet us in their _lair_ underneath the caller's apartment building." Turning to Peter, Egon looked positively confused. "It is entirely possible that this could, in fact, be a legitimate call—after all, Nyx _is_ the Greek goddess of the night. However, it _is _rather strange receiving a solicitation from the actual party responsible for the mistaken decision to summon an unwieldly paranormal entity."

Mrs. Cosser went a few shades' worth of pale. "You—you aren't going to take me on a call from an—an…evil," and she put up a few fingers delicately to her face, closing her eyes and sighing femininely, "…_cult_," she whispered, curling her fingers now down toward her palm, and giving Peter a frightened, watery-eyed gaze, "…_are_ you?"

Peter winked at her, oh so slowly. "Mrs. Cosserrrrrr. You're gonna have Doctor Venkman along with you," he purred. He leaned into her, and inhaled deeply. "And Dr. Venkman always keeps beautiful women safe…and sound." He wiggled his eyebrows at her lasciviously, ignoring Winston's rather obvious facepalm.

"Oh…my," she sighed, entranced by him. "I—I will be brave because you'll take wonderful care of me, Dr. Venkman." She closed her eyes, and shot a forefinger up to the ceiling in sudden demand. "Only IF—both your _secretary_—" and she pointed down at Janine, who sat up in her chair at the gesture, wide-eyed, "and your—ah—_ghost_," she continued, pointing upwards at Slimer, who was now sporting a little construction worker's hat, belt, and safety vest, "goes along too. I need to observe _all of you_ for my notes to be complete!"

"You gotta be kidding, you _fraud_!" spat Janine. "These are four-inch heels! I won't make it out of the garage without blisters!" She pointed at the blonde woman. "I have no problem at all slingin' a pack and going along, even in this getup, but I wanna do it in either boots or sneakers, thanks!"

"You are to wear your uniform shoes. Might I remind you, Miss Melnitz, about my one phone call?"

They glared at each other for a few moments, each just daring the other to drop their case first.

Janine huffed loudly, and got up on her unsteady feet. "Your one phone call should be from the state pen for this ridiculous waste of New York taxpayer money you're suckin' up!"

Ray brightened, and pointed toward Janine's footwear. "Hey, Janine! If you lend me your shoes, I can—"

Mrs. Cosser cleared her throat loudly. "—And!" she barked, waving a finger at Dr. Stantz as if he were a small child with his hand in the cookie jar, "Absolutely noooo modifications to any of the government issued, social-awareness-enhancing uniforms!" She winked at Ray. "Because that's what you were thinking!"

Ray growled, and made a fist at his side.

Winston snorted, and crossed his arms, the motion sending yet another volley of feathers through the air. "Mayor had to tell her about that, 'cuz I think she's too stupid to think 'a that on her own," he whispered to Ray. The occultist nodded in hearty approval.

"Thank you so much, Ray," sighed Janine. "You're always so sweet!" Then, turning a scowl toward the pinstripe-suited blonde woman, "Don't worry, you suited social-awareness sham!" she said, slamming down her fist on the alarm. "My calves could use a little work, anyway!"

Egon, realizing that Ray had used up the last alternative solution to the redhead's problem, shot up from where he sat, and followed her closely over to the Ecto-1 in case she should need assisstance again, shooting a filthy look out of the corners of his eyes at Mrs. Cosser when he passed her.

The 'Busters, Janine, Mrs. Cosser, and Slimer packed into Ecto-1 to roll out, but not before Egon had to catch the redheaded secretary yet again. "Hold on to me for the duration of this assignment, should you need to," he whispered softly into her ear.

Unbelieveably, it was Janine's turn to flush bright scarlet. _Wooooooow!_ "Sure, Egon! Nooooooooo problem!" she purred, as she slid in the front seat before him.


	3. Chapter 3

The Firehouse Inspection Service!

Chapter 3. The Mission!

Ray drove them all to the caller's apartment complex, which sat in a seedy, industrial-looking area of town. Stepping out, they somehow got their packs over their outrageous, clumsy costumes, Winston needing a little more help than anyone else. They made their way through the brownish dusty air, over the worn-down curb and broken sidewalk sections to the front door of the hotel, Janine and Egon at the back of the party as Janine's unpracticed, clumsy gait, due to her heels, were considerably slowing her down.

Mrs. Cosser and Peter made it to the door first, the dark-haired psychologist hanging as closely to the blonde woman as much as Egon was to Janine. It made Winston look increasingly more nauseated with every step.

Janine looked up from concentrating on navigating the front steps, and grasped the railing unsteadily to begin to clear the steps to the front door, when she noticed Mrs. Cosser's footwear. "Hey! You changed in the car to sneakers!" she barked. "What gives with that?" She pointed unceremoniously at Mrs. Cosser. "You take off those cute little pink Pumas, and put those snotty little pumps back on your feet right now, government girl!"

Mrs. Cosser tossed her head, hitting Peter in the chest with her blond locks. Whether it was intentional or not, she still made him grin broadly, and adjust his studded leather jacket. "These are approved beforehand by the mayor's office for official use! It only makes sense that a slight concession be made for me, as I am to remain as alert and unbiased as possible when observing you all for my report!" She slapped her hand on the handle to the door of the building. "And just you remember, _I_ will only be observing! You all will be doing the work when we get to the proper location. Considering it will be almost like I won't even be there, I could have done this in my pajamas if I so chose to!"

"Fredericks of Hollywood?" asked Peter, unable to resist.

"Oh, no, Dr. Venkman…Victoria's Secret!" said Mrs. Cosser with a devilish grin. "They're just as interesting to look at, and, shall I say, much less…tacky!"

Winston, a step behind the two of them, rolled his eyes. "My mama would slap me upside the head for just listenin' to this conversation," he whispered to Ray. "She's a _missus_!"

Janine bared her teeth in rage, and slowly took each step up to the front door, the whole time Egon staying close, guarding her like she was the Crown Jewels.

Entering the cracked façade of the dated apartment complex, they set about to heading toward the sparse, purely functional front desk. They passed inevitably by a few staring and glaring individuals along the way. One very tall dark man even reached out to tap Ray on his ten-gallon hat, with a low, grumbling "Nice threads, Tex" comment, causing a very annoyed Ray to fumble with his hat to once again make it comfortable atop his head.

Peter turned around, walking backwards, and shot a glare at the large dark man as he swung out one of the front doors to the apartment. "Hey! I'm the only one that calls him that!" he called, and Ray desperately began asking him to calm down and not start any trouble any sooner than necessary.

The large man then paused for a moment, glaring at Janine ravenously with an approving "mmm-hm!", much to Egon's extreme irritation. The man held up his hands at seeing not only Egon's Glare of a Thousand Deaths, but also his police costume. The man's eyes went wide at the tall man's icy blue stare, and he held up his hands. "Whoa, Blondie. Ain't gonna mess. Promise!" he said, before disappearing backwards out the door.

They reached the front desk, and a bearded, middle-aged man in a tan suit was discussing something with an older woman with purplish hair, and a heavily-built, round-faced security guard.

"Heeeey," began Peter, leaning against the desk and giving the trio his best million-dollar smile. The motion of his pack kept punctuating his speech, making squeaking sounds against his leather jacket. "We're here for the kinky costume party down in the basement? The one sponsored by the Lady of the Night?"

The security guard went wide-eyed, and the old woman squinted as she hovered obliviously over the large book before her. "Let me see here…kinky party…kinky party…," she said, before the man in the tan suit hurriedly got their attention by waving a hand at the two of them, in an effort to say that he'd handle this one.

"Hello, ladies and gentlemen—and—ah—_ghost_," he said, folding his hands nervously and nodding at Slimer, who tipped his hat and babbled a greeting. "My, you look quite different than you do on TV…are these new uniforms or—"

"—we're here about that call you placed for us?" interrupted Winston, crossing his arms and making feathers loosen, and float down to the thinly carpeted floor. With a roll of his eyes, he added, "the costumes are—beyond a brief explanation for right now. We gotta leave it at that."

Peter put his hands on his hips. "Sooooo, where's your problem?"

The man beckoned with a finger for the oddly-dressed group to follow him, and he opened a door at his side. The seven-some were led down a long staircase, down to the basement of the building. The man then picked up a rug, revealing a large square, cut precisely in the cement floor. The cement of the rest of the floor bowed downward on one side of the square, revealing handholds on the block. He picked up the block using the handholds, and they descended more stairs, to Mrs. Cosser's dramatic, frightened worry.

They reached the bottom of the stairs, and passed through a thin black curtain, into a cement-floored and -walled, cool hallway.

Mrs. Cosser grabbed a hold of Peter's leather-jacketed arm as she quaked with fear, her eyes widening as the took in the sights of the black candles and black gauze-lined tunnel walls. "I don't like this place!" she whispered. "Dr. Venkman! This is so much…evil! I am not used to dealing with evil such as this!" She brought the back of a hand to her forehead, and began to waver where she stood.

Peter brought a hand around her waist, and put a finger to his upturned, grinning lips in an effort to calm her, and she melted for a moment from the attention.

He turned his head as they walked through. "Hey, Spengs, what's up? You have any readings? We could use some, yanno."

Egon turned spoke over a shoulder at the psychologist, blushing up a storm as he stood at the base of the stairs, holding Janine's hands in an effort to balance her down the last few steps of the unstable, narrow staircase. "Uhm…I am going to be rather…_distracted and preoccupied_ during this misson, Peter. Feel free to remove a portion of my compensation if this is not entirely acceptable." He glanced over to the man in the cowboy outfit. "Raymond? Could you—ah—please—?"

"Hey, no problem, buddy." Ray smoothly flipped out the PKE meter, and turned a knob or two. The arms flew up high, and a worrying alarm began sounding. He frowned at the meter, unhappy with the strong reading he was getting. "Well, it's not god or demigod level, but it does seem to be rather strong for a minor spirit. Dispersion is in a rather wide area, like an entire room or something, further on."

Egon _humphed_ as Janine came closer to ground level. "The low level readings seem to indicate that it is not Nyx herself here…_yet_. The PKE meter would have exploded the moment it was turned on. Raymond, I suggest keeping the PKE meter turned off as much as possible, and even to be ready to throw away the device on a second's notice if Nyx herself makes an appearance."

Ray nodded solemnly, and clicked off the device.

Egon addressed their guide, the man in the brown suit, while still keeping his eyes focused on the redhead in the visually fascinating French maid outfit. "That means Nyx is disinterested in your organization and had potentially sent a lesser spirit to negotiate," he analyzed, not seeing the man's apologetic sigh at his words. "What we must be mostly concerned about is the intelligence level of the entity. I would assume we should be prepared for a very high level of intellect considering that it was placed here by such a powerful deity as Nyx."

Janine finally cleared the last stair, and looked far up into Egon's eyes in worry. "You can just do your job, yanno, I can just hold on to the walls," she whispered. "I'm not slinging a pack," she made fists, "not that I don't want to! But if I'm gonna be in your way, then—"

Wordlessly, Egon slipped a hand behind her waist, and moved her along forward, making Janine release a sigh, partly out of concern, resignation, and embarassment…but mostly out of relief. The front halves of her feet were kinda sore, already.

* * *

"It's been awful, gentlemen," said the brown-suited man, leading them along the turning hallways. "Everyone that has come out of this room had been running out as if they had seen their entire life flash before their eyes. They are now being analyzed in a psychiatric ward." He wrung his hands inbetween opening a few more black curtains for the group. "I fear that not a few of them will be rendered clinically insane after this."

Passing out concrete lined rooms on either side of the long hallway, the group of seven eventually could see a large room straight ahead. However, instead of glowing with the warm light of black candles, as was in the main hallway, or reflecting the cold light of fluorescent lighting, like those that were in some of the side rooms used for props and storage, it seemed that the presence of light stopped at its threshold. Slimer started to slow down his floating pace, and instead of keeping up with Peter and Mrs. Cosser at the front, he was falling further and further back, threading his little fingers together and looking side to side in worry.

Ray grinned at Peter aside him, pointing at the green ghost. "Looks like we won't even need a PKE meter to tell us where trouble is. Slimer's just as accurate!"

"Yeah, kinda like when miners used to take canaries down in the shafts with them," he said with a grin.

Ray frowned. "Peter, that was just wicked."

Egon, making his way to the front after releasing Janine for only a spare few moments, stood aside of the brown-suited guide as he spoke. "I think this is where we should part ways. You will only be putting yourself in an incredible degree of danger by choosing to accompany us further." The man nodded, and graciously left their company.

Egon again wrapped his arm around Janine's waist, increasingly feeling the weight she used to lean on him increase as they pressed forward.

Entering the darkened room, they could hear what seemed to sound like a young girl, laughing and cackling cruelly.

Egon gently assissted Janine down to the floor by the doorway, reassuring her over her protests that he was only keeping her a safe distance away because she was not carrying a proton thrower…and sported incredibly bad footwear to work with even she did carry one. She nodded in reluctant agreement, and he kissed her chastely on the top of the head before joining Ray and Winston further in the room.

Peter, in his turn, helped the suited blonde woman to stand at a place at the entrance. "Mrs. Cosser, you just relax here and just worry 'bout keeping that cute little pink pen you've been using these few days moving along," drawled Peter with a flirtatious smile. When he caught sight of what Egon was doing, he leaned in to Mrs. Cosser…and to the utter disgust of everyone present, kissed her on her blonde-crowned head, letting his lips linger, and linger there…

Winston's jaw dropped to the floor, and he mumbled something about happily being put in the lab chair back at the firehouse if it meant Egon and Ray could rearrange his cranium to make him forget what he saw.

Mrs Cosser nodded at Peter's encouragement. "I…cannot believe they wanted to make an animated series out of…_this_…" she breathed, staring into the blackened room. She shot Janine, sitting on floor at the wall opposite her at the doorway, a dirty look, to which she only received a stuck out tongue.

The four men marched forward, seeing that the space had been renovated by the summoned spirits into an elaborate type of throneroom, and a narrow, black, elaborately-patterned, thick carpet ran across its width to a back wall, which was covered in a stunning pattern of what looked like ironworked sconces. At the base of the decorated wall, a thin, unkempt-looking form sat in a large, luxurious beanbag, and her laughter pierced the air loudly in seeming amusement as to what the tall, elegant figure that stood over her was telling her.

The tall figure turned only her head to casually assess the party of seven, causing Slimer to panic, and bolt away, as he usually did when a high-level entity was present.

She was terrifyingly beautiful, and it was unsettling that not only her clothes, but everything about her, including her skin, was of the deepest shade of black they'd ever seen. Not a rich, polished ebony, like Winston's; the color was of _perfect black_. Her hair, of the same darkness, was done in an elaborate pattern of braids and falling tresses, and a crown of deepest black leaves, those resembling laurels, circled her onyx-colored temples. Her heavily-lashed, pupilless white eyes shone out like stars, and her velvety, ethereal clothing, covered in little constellations, fell among her limbs in long folds, trailing a few feet along the ground.

"Nyx," whispered Egon. "Though there are so many separate beings in ancient Greek worship I cannot fathom who the other is without more information."

"Oooooh, more human strangers to play with, mother!" laughed the ethereal child loudly. She was so much smaller than the elegant woman, but still bore the same, midnight black complexion. Her eyes shone out from her face, as did the statuesque woman's; however, they were shaded an eerie yellow. Her black hair and her long black folding and turning garments were a ragged mess, and she moved around more like an impatient cat or monkey rather than a regal human, shifting her bare feet often in her soft dark beanbag-like throne. "We don't even really need to go out looking for the humans! They bring themselves to us!"

Nyx smiled faintly. "You will eventually learn enough about them, Phrike. Not all of them will come to you, but those, I am sure, will be the most interesting ones to catch."

"Is that who that little juvenile deliquent is, Ray?" asked Peter.

"Yeah! Phrike, her daughter! Spirit of Horror and Trembling Fear!" whispered Ray, wide-eyed.

"Have a grand time, my daughter. I leave these for you to enjoy." Phrike clapped and cheered in terrifying, childish amusement as her ethereal mother's form faded away, leaving only the hovering, glowing constellation map on her elegant cloak before disappearing entirely.

While Phrike cheered and laughed at the power she was now given, Mrs. Cosser humphed. "Well, I am obviously against shooting this little girl with these…monstrous things you are carrying!" she called out from behind them. "I say we begin to talk to her and find out why she acts out like this! I'm sure it's because her little heart is broken into a thousand pieces!"

"Once again you amaze me at your incompetence in dealing with the non-physical realms," growled Egon bitterly, remembering that in the car, Mrs. Cosser had told the 'Busters that packs were unecessary—her instincts told her that a little garlic should do the trick here. Mrs. Cosser's eyes went wide in offense.

"Yeah, he's right," said Ray resoutely, frowning at Mrs. Cosser. "There are some very rare beings where diplomacy will get you somewhere, but usually the higher powered the being, the less interested in discussion they are!" He turned toward the throned child. "Power up, guys!"

Above Mrs. Cosser's stubbornly continued objections, the men all switched on their packs, the whining pitch rising in the stillness of the underground room.

"Prepare to fire!" announced Ray.

"Fire…" repeated the girl, empty of emotion. Phrike's frightening yellow eyes narrowed, and she crouched forward, and rose out of her seat. "This human woman seems to not recognize good advice, _mother_…" She threw out her hands in front of her, her fingers in an odd configuration. Thin black threads shot out of them, and, in less than a second, buried themselves bloodlessly and painlessly into the foreheads of each member of the party present, even the two women, right between their eyes.

All motion in the chamber stopped for a breathless few seconds, except the loud metallic ring of four proton rifles being dropped to the ground in shock at the depth of the unwelcome inspection they were now receiving. Mrs. Cosser, wide eyed, dropped unawares to sit on the cool, clean concrete ground by the doorway.

Grasping the six threads now that came out of her hands, Phrike now grinned broadly, her tone becoming serious, sadistic, and deadly. "Now that I know all of your deepest fears," she said slowly, "I can begin to have fun with each of you!" She snapped the lines back, and they disappeared into her. "_Let's play_!" she growled.


	4. Chapter 4

The Firehouse Inspection Service!

Ch. 4 The Victory Song!

Phrike stood, surrounded, but unmoved. The men had recovered from the shock of her spiritual prying, and now were again poised to open fire.

The proton guns heated up, and as quick as the men could hover their fingers over the gun triggers, she drowned the entire room in almost palpable darkness.

She seemed to melt into the black carpeting, and then reappeared behind Winston, who was vainly calling out, trying to locate his friends. "You will be first. You can relive what happened thirty years ago, and ten years ago. Over and over."

Another dark ribbon appeared out of her hand, and encircled Winston's head. Immediately he fell to his knees.

He grabbed his temples, wincing and crying out, trying to be rid the frightening imagery he was seeing…the day when, as a little boy, he accidentally yelled at Daddy when he was on a painting scaffold, making Daddy fall fifty feet; crying in the hospital holding Daddy's big hand; scenes of gunfire and explosive powder and foxholes he saw as an adult. He was _there_, all over again.

Seeing Winston in discomfort made Peter, who could briefly see the dark man, furiously curse into the air, and attempt to fire at Phrike. She melted into the pitch black rug beneath her, and immediately resurfaced, showing him that she was holding a cockroach in her hand.

Peter shrunk back.

"I know why you fear these," said Phrike menacingly. "When your father got in trouble, you defended him when you were both trapped in an alley. The collectors weren't kind to you. You were on the ground, bleeding with these creatures for hours before you woke up first and got the two of you to a hospital. Am I right?"

Peter's usually fair complexion now turned white at the depth of her knowledge. "You rotten little…"

He heard something scratching at his right boot, and looked down. There were more insects, of all different varieties, swarming at his feet, chewing away the leather, covering the floor…falling in clumps to the carpeting…dripping from the ceiling… He pointed his gun down and shot…

…and shot, and shot.

And the more he shot, the more appeared.

She turned her attention to Ray.

The redhead stopped looking at the far corners of the room, and turned his attention away from Phrike, to his blonde friend, who had immediately called out the secretary's name over and over when the room became impenatrably blackened. "There's Peter, and there she is again! She's hiding herself, and she took along Winston for a second there, too!" Ray could see Peter cursing and shooting at something disturbing, which was hidden from him due to the inky darkness in the room.

"And Janine. She's cloaking whomever she wishes of us from one another!" noted Egon in agitation. "Very effective method of raising concern."

Ray and Egon both fired, and Phrike now appeared in the air behind Egon, her hair and clothing flowing wildly. "You were the most interesting to examine," she said flatly to Egon. "You have _so much fear_ for having lead such a sheltered, intellectual life! Which should I choose first to play with?"

Egon could see Ray reaching out, screaming his name, and then, he too disappeared in the thick darkness of the room.

She bound Egon's arms and feet in midair using her black ribbons, and slowly, with great resistance, but with the aid of more of her thin onyx-colored extensions, took off his proton pack, examined it curiously, and threw it the full way across the room behind her. It landed with a loud _clang_ at the base of the beanbag-like throne. "That blue-skinned, large-headed goat-man in your memory is very interesting. He's been there for a _very_ long time."

Egon gritted his teeth, and pulled at the restraints, disgusted that the subject of the Boogeyman was coming up in this mission.

"However, you should know…that goat-man that you fear cannot do half of the things I can," she said with a wicked smile. "But scaring children…That's a very pure form of fear which I'd like to see more of. You will follow me."

When he proved too strong for he restraints around him to move, she summoned two large, shadowy beings to pick him up off the ground, and mute his mouth.

Before disappearing into the doorway, she uncloaked herself to Ray, daring him to fire. Already holding a heated proton rifle, he instinctively shot at her appearance, and his vision was immediately again drowned in blackness.

"Quit hiding yourself!" hissed Ray through his teeth. He called out to the secretary, who had tossed her high heels away, and ran to the opposite side of the room to pickup Egon 's previously thrown proton pack. "J—Janine! Janine! I just saw Egon for a second! Did ya find that pack yet?"

"Yeah, Ray! I got it! But I can't see her! I can't see anyone else but you!" she called out. "I—I can't see Egon! She's going to do something awful to him! I know it!"

Phrike, with Egon in reluctant tow, grinned, and made herself briefly visible to Ray again. "I'm not done having fun with you or her yet," she said, smiling, and hooking her hands together innocently behind her back, as any child would. "Let's play a game you humans in this age call Hide-and-Seek!" And that quickly, she disappeared from Ray's vision again.

She turned to face Mrs. Cosser. "I cannot do anything about what you fear, woman. But maybe someday you'll meet someone that _will_." Mrs. Cosser watched Phrike enter the hallway aside her, not daring to move an inch, and saw Egon getting dragged away after her. They disappeared into the quickly darkening hallway, and soon the whole hallway was dark as Phrike stepped further and further down it, filling the space with her essence.

Janine, now wearing Egon's proton pack, and not wearing her heels, met Ray in the middle of the room, still surrounded by the dark nothingness. They both stood at the ready, back to back.

She whispered to the occultist. "Hey…Ray, what's the readings look like now?"

Flipping out the PKE meter again, Ray ground his teeth and lowered his ruddy eyebrows. "Inconclusive!" he growled. "It's like she's drowning, or filling, the very air with the same reading she has!"

"Hey! Blondie! Mind telling us anything ya know about where Egon went?" yelled Janine impatiently over to Mrs. Cosser, now that she could be seen. "Or should we still just pretend we don't see you and let that crazy kid do whatever she wants with ya?"

Mrs. Cosser turned back toward the hallway. "Back..back this way! She said something to me and then disappeared...in…"

The three of them saw a form emerge from the hallway.

There was Egon, stumbling out, both his police costume, and his body, shredded to pieces.

"I…fought her…but…" he stumbled, shaking and holding the wall for dear life, about to fall to the ground. Janine, in terrified aguish, screamed his name and ran over to him…to catch him just before he collapsed, gasping for air.

She whispered his name over and over, but he was completely unresponsive. All she could do to comfort him, was guide him to the floor, and tenderly hold his head in her lap.

Ray's eyes was starting to tear up, and he ran toward his friend, falling to his knees at Egon's side. Gazing helplessly at Egon's torn body, he gritted his teeth at the knowledge that the blackness behind him still hid the whereabouts of Winston and Peter. "I should have gotten the meter out when Nyx left. I should have shot faster. I should have…"

Phrike's disembodied head appeared above the three of them, her wild, long black hair thrown about by an unseen wind. "Which is more frightening to you now? Seeing your friends die, or not knowing where they are? And knowing you could have done something to stop it all?"

Tears about to fall out of her own eyes, Janine reached out toward Ray, gently trying to tell him not to listen.

Janine's encouragement could not stop Ray's rage from surfacing. "STOP! JUST STOP IT!" screamed Ray, firing at the child's wild-haired head before it disappeared into the nether-seeming air of the room.

"Ray, you did everything you could. We love you Ray. Please!" begged Janine, trying to comfort him as she felt Egon's life slipping away.

Ray fell to his hands, and gazed again at Egon's body, blood now soaking the once-light-blue shirt. "When this happens…there's always something you could have done! Always!" His eyes grew wider, and his speech slower in sudden epiphany. "Al…ways…"

"What is it, Ray?"

His eyes went wide, and he flinched back, looking more closely at Egon's body. "That…that's it! Janine…this isn't Egon!" he whispered.

"How do you know that?"  
"It's not there!" Ray moved the police shirt away from the right side of Egon's body. "It's…not there! The wire mark!" He snapped his head up to Janine. "You're not gonna like hearing this…but—um—he was building a new gun model, and...well…it exploded in the lab during the night when you weren't there. It threw a hot wire right on him, and caused a long burn right here!" He made a line vertically up Egon's side.

Janine threw fists into the air. "Ohhhhhh!" she growled, grabbing her hair. "That _happened to him_ and he didn't _tell me_? That boy has _some nerve_!"

Egon's doppelganger, now revealed as a spectre of Phrike's, opened its eyes, which now glowed the same yellow as the Spirit of Horror's eyes, turning quickly into a dark, muscled spectral servant.

"Get away from it!" yelled Ray.

Both Ray and Janine got up, leaped back, and shot it. It glowed under the max settings, struggling, but effortlessly getting contained from the two weapons.

"I got it!" called the secretary. "Cuz this one.._is personal_!" she growled.

As it shrieked and struggled, Janine used a knee to support the gun, threw out a trap, and stamped on it with a black-stockinged foot, capturing the spectre inside the snapping, sizzling silver box.

Holding up the smoking trap, Janine scowled and cursed at the doppelganger, as Ray pointed toward through the now much-clearer air toward Winston, who sat paralyzed and hunched over in anguish in the emptiness of the center for the room.

"Winston!" he cried, and they both ran to assisst him.

* * *

Peter kicked and shot at the advancing insects, who by now threatened to cover his neck. Wherever he shot, he managed to kick off only a few at a time, sending them flying high in the air, to land and disappear into hundreds of thousands more just like it. As soon as he found a new clear place to stand, it was overrun yet again by invading insects.

Grunting and gritting his teeth in disgust, his mind was left completely proccupied by the sharp words by Phrike, the Spirit of Horror. Yeah, they got stuck in an alley. Yeah, he remembered wrapping his arm around his dad, seeing his torn herringbone jacket an' all, and yanking him up, and dragging him, and himself, to a cab. And all the stupid jokes his dad made when he finally came to. He remembered his dad apologizing over and over again that his son had to do and see what he did, and how sure he was that it got Mom p.o.'ed…but also that she would never show it…she'd just sigh, and smile.

Kicking his feet, now completely enclosed in insects again, he noticed flesh colored spots on his leather boots. Brushing off a layer of bugs with a sleeve of his leather jacket, he was horrified to see that they had chewed through the thick leather, and were now actively invading his clothing.

With a cry of utter disgust, he called out for Ray and Winston, and growled when he got no answer. Calling out for Spengs didn't work, either. The hell was wrong with that kid? Spengs shoulda had this figured out already! Was he in some side room necking with the secretary again or somethin'?

After taking another look at his chewed boot, he again began dancing in between the many-legged intruders and the precious few inches of space between them the proton gun made. Did he wanna plug up that gaping hole in his footwear with an arm, and allow the bugs free reign in his hair, or would he rather feel a crunching squish in his footwear and keep them off his head? He had to make a disgusting decision.

He swatted them away from his feet using the sleeve of his jacket again, sure the other boot was chewed to pieces by now. Replacing the free hand on the barrel of the proton gun, he noticed a few bugs here and there who had made it all the way past the sleeve, onto his hand.

He looked at them curiously, amazed that though he could see them, their shadows, everything…he just could not _feel_ them there, right on his skin.

And…he grinned. That was the answer.

They were, in a way, not really there.

"C'mon, Venkman, you wasted enough time and money on that psych doctorate!" he told himself. "You gotta come up with some ingenious, brilliant, foxy and sickeningly technical way to deal with looking at all these things! Because they ain't really there!"

He thought for just a moment, before stopping where he stood.

"Yeah…technical. I got a nice technical solution…_right here_."

Grinning broadly, he closed his eyes, replaced the temporarily useless proton gun, and defiantly crossed his arms. "A hunnnnndred bottles of beer on the wall, a hunnnnndred bottles of beeeeer!…"

Opening one of his eyes juuust a crack, he could see the shadows of antennae and feet in the corners of his eyes. His heart jumped, and immediately he snapped his eyes shut, sickened, but also encouraged that he could not _feel_ hundreds of little legs all over he face.

"…ya take one downnnn, ya pass it arooooound, ninety-nine bottles of beer on the wall! Ninety-nine bottles of beer on the waaaaall, ninety-nine bottles of beeeeer!…"

It didn't take too many more rounds for him to hear a hoarse screaming, right aside him.

With the instincts of a cat, Peter fluidly unsheathed his weapon, pointed it at the now singular dark entity which appeared before him, and shot it before it could even finish its complaint. While the shot connected, and caused a yellow glow around the immediate area, he grinned at the fact that all the insects were gone, and his boots were never chewed through to begin with. His drinking song had done exactly what Peter hoped it would…helped to ease his fears and disgust, driving the demon to frustration, and causing it to combine itself into one shadowy figure. He then cursed heavily, noticing that one gun wasn't _quite_ enough to contain it.

He was just about ready to cut the power when from behind him, when he heard the activation of another gun…and now the demon was easily steadied in the glowing yellow energy.

He had just enough time to glance behind him. There was a stocking-footed Janine, firing away to aid him in securing the spectre, and there was good ol' Tex, throwing out a trap. Soon enough, the white pyramid sucked in the screaming dark spectre, and all was quiet again except for the sound of the trap, sizzling away at its new capture.

As Peter hoisted up the trap with a cocky grin, Janine strode up to him, her finger pointing sternly. "Now's a good time mention some extra vacation days!" said the redhead, as Ray immediately fell again to Winston's side.

"Well, maybe an hour or two," said Peter, grinning. "_Maaaaaaaybe_."

"A day, and no less!" she snapped. "And you better make sure Egon somehow magically gets the same day too, or I'll let the little guy in here negotiate fer me!"

Peter held up his hands, puckering in certain defeat innocently, and scooted over to where Winston was still crumpled on the floor.

* * *

Ray softly kept repeating Winston's name, an ensuring hand on the large dark man's shoulder. Winston was only able to cradle his head in his hands, shaking it gently. "It's all my fault. My fault, man. I hate it. I'm not over it all yet. My fault…"

Peter slid on his knees next to the pained Ghostbuster, grabbing his shoulders. "It's all visions, Zed. She's using it against you. You gotta snap out. It's all fake."

"No, it ain't!" cried Winston. "These are real things I'm seein'. Things that happened. I coulda done more…I shouldna done some of the things I did…Daddy! I—"

"Don't let her guilt you into not being able to fight, Winston!" offered Ray, having gone through the same thing himself.

"Yeah. What he said. They're not real _right now_, Zed. If you don't snap out of it, then she _really _wins. That's _real_. Is that what you want?"

"No…but I can't…see past it right now…I can't…."

"Hey. Zed. What did you and yer war vet buddies do when the heat was on and you needed to save your brains from getting fried?"

"We…we…talked about home. We talked. We told stories. We sang—"

"Sing with me, man. C'mon," insisted Peter, shaking Winston's shoulders encouragingly. "A hundred bottles of beer on the waaaaall, a hundred bottles of beeeeeer!…"

Winston rocked back and forth slightly,a nd winced harder. "I can't do that, man. Not a drinking song! It's not right…it's not appropriate…I can't. Lookin' at this now…"

Peter never stopped singing, except to say "The more things change, the more they stay the same. We can't afford to lose another proton pack slinger here. Sing with me."

Slowly, Winston closed his eyes, and began to hoarsely cry out a few out-of-tune notes along with Peter. Eventually, his awful, years-old visions melted away, and he was able to join Peter in hearty song. A smile broke on his dark face, and he was once again able to sit calmly, and assess the situation as he always had.

Peter got up to his feet, and offered a hand for Winston to get back up again. Smiling comfortably at Peter once again, Winston slapped his own hand into the psychologist's before getting a solid amount of help up to his feet. "What do ya charge for your services, man? I'm a little short on wages this month!" he said, grinning and taking out and adjusting his thrower.

"This one's on the house as long as you can hand me a few good references for some good shrink-farming," said Peter.

"I know at least three other guys in a little place in TriBeCa that could use a lot of that. Even deal?"

Peter's grin fell at Winston's sly implication. "You know, I'll just have to charge you double, I think…" He cocked an eyebrow. "Don't you think, Tex?"

Receiving no answer, he looked left and right. "Tex? Where'd ya go?" Still getting no answer, he resorted to yelling Ray's name. And Janine's.

Ray's auburn-crowned head shot out from a corner of a room, farther up the hall. "Now that Winston is OK, she took right off looking for Egon, and I'm staying with her!"

Peter sighed, rolling his eyes. "Insurance is gonna drop her like a lead brick if she doesn't stop doing that when she's with us." Winston nodded, and the both of them took off toward where Ray's head disappeared behind the corner of the hall.

Catching up with Ray, he had already pointed them in a direction where the malevolent horror spirit had taken their missing member. "PKE meter's reading show that we really cleaned up the place of all that residual energy! It's easy as cake to lock on to Phrike now! This way!"

Peter was about to follow Ray as he led the path toward Phrike, when he felt a tug on his jacket sleeve. "Hey, Dr. V," said Mrs. Cosser sensuously as she ran her fingers through her hair. "That was some pretty good professional work you do. Mind if you would give me some…healing…too?"

The psychologist placed a hand on a wall, and leaned on it after getting over the fact that in his concern for the other 'Busters, he quite forgot that she was even there. Then…he grinned. "Sure. Your place or mine?"

She dared to raise a finger to Peter's lips. "Oh, mine, definitely. Someone's got a rather loooong week off right now, and the kids are going to vacation at Gramma's. So…Mommy's gonna get pretty lonely, I think." She pouted, brushing his lips softly with a perfectly manicured nail

Peter winked. "When we get back to the firehouse, we'll think of something…"

Mrs. Cosser strode by him confidently that her proposition was agreed to. "Yes. That'll be fine," she purred, heading in the same direction where Ray, Janine, and Winston had run.

She turned around. "Oh. And you may call me Justine. Just…not in front of anyone else," she said softly, winking at him.

Peter gave her a thumbs-up, and watched her walk farther and farther down in the hallway. He ran a hand through his hair. "I got this one…_in the bag_," he whispered to himself, his dark brows and his eyelids lowered devilishly.

Winston gave Peter and Mrs. Cosser a suspicious glare out of the corner of his dark eyes as they rejoined the party still in search of the blond physicist.

Ray pointed at a room a little ways ahead. "Max settings, and heat 'em up now! Just make sure Egon's not in the line of fire before you shoot, as he probably won't be able to see us as she'll have the room cloaked!"

The three gentlemen and one lady with weapons nodded sternly, and the clear, whining, rising sound of four proton packs filled the air.

They ran up to the room, and in a flash, all were lined up just inside the entrance, when Ray cried out, exasperated at what he saw.

There was Egon, bound and sitting on the ground, his back toward the entrance, and sliding on the floor using his feet to get away from the monstrous Boogeyman doppelganger

"Hold it! Hold fire! He's right in the way!" he called out to Egon in the room. "Egon! Can you see us? We're right—"

Egon spun his head around to face them, and simply yelled, "FIRE!" before rolling away, giving the three 'Busters and their secretary a clear shot at the malevolent spirit.

Ray, Winston, and Janine stood in shock, but Peter's finger was already pressing on the trigger. "You heard the boy! FIRE!"

Phrike's yellow eyes went wide open, and she reverted back into her childlike form. "You…could see them! How?" was all she managed to say in her terrified panic as four full-strength beams hit her head-on.

Egon's hand and feet were freed at her distraction, and he ran over, and grabbed the trap from Winston's pack, tossing it expertly right underneath Phrike.

Screaming and writhing, Phrike could not even begin to fight against the beams enough to make the bearers of the proton weapons concerned about keeping her restrained until she was trapped. In seconds, the Horror Spirit was sucked into the white light, and the yellow-and-black-striped little doors shut, sealing away her powers in a rising cloud of superheated white smoke.

As Winston picked up the trap, he had to grin at Egon, at whom the red-headed secretary was already throwing herself. "How was it you were able to see us, man?"

Egon left out an _ugh!_ As Janine hit him hard head-on, finishing up with a tight embrace. He brought his arms around her, and kissed the top of her head before answering.

"Her probe accurately penetrated our past and revealed our fears," he explained, "however, it obviously did not give her the information as to whether those fears were overcome or not. I had gotten over my fear of the Boogeyman, and therefore, when she assumed that form, her cloaking had no effect on me."

"Wow, that's so smart!" cooed Janine before releasing his torso, then sternly frowning at him…to his utter confusion. She immediately began undoing his tie, making freeze against the wall in terror. After undoing the neatly done knot, she threw the tie away, and then furiously began to unbutton his shirt.

"Hey, hey, heeeeeey! _Janine!_" implored Peter with upraised palms. "At least wait until we get back to the firehouse before breaking out his cute lil' handcuffs, mmmkay?" Peter turned casually to Mrs. Cosser, and thumbed in the secretary's direction. "She's always looking for opportunities to do that, yanno."

"You shut up! This is important!" snapped Janine back to him. When Egon's face turned bright red at what she was doing, he started quietly saying her name in protest, stiffly backed up against the wall as if he were waiting for a public shooting. "And _you_, relax!…_relax…_ I gotta check something out here, so stay put for a minute!" she ordered him when he protested her undoing his clothing.

Looking much, much more trapped now than he ever did under Phrike, he gasped, wide-eyed, as Janine glared at the wire-thin burn along his right side. "It's really you!" she said, tears welling up in her eyes. Softening, she drew her hand along the burn. "I'm not happy to see this," she whispered before pointing a finger at him, "And I'm REALLY not happy about not being told about it in the first place…but I'm glad it's you..and you're OK." She grabbed his shirt, and drew him down into a deep kiss.

Peter and Winston were the first to roll their eyes and walk away. "Praise the Lord," said Winston dryly. "Let's collect, then get this one back to the containment unit ASAP."

"'A man after my own heart', Zed," added Peter, quoting the well-known Biblical verse to the religious man.

Ray ran his hands through his hair, trying not to look at the romantic couple as he passed by, but also not able to find fault at all with Janine's sensuous reaction to her beloved's safety, considering what she saw just a few minutes eariler. He began to follow the two older men out, but not before noticing Mrs. Cosser's acrid, momentary scowl at the still deepening kiss the tall blonde physicist, and the petite redheaded secretary were locked in.


	5. Chapter 5

The Firehouse Inspection Service!

Chapter 5. The Meeting!

Winston rounded the next turn. "I can't believe she wants to have a meeting to discuss her evaluation of our work," he said, flipping his hand over, which hung out the car window, with disgust. "What else is there to say? We rock, nobody else does what we do, we have a great system, and that's it!" He flicked his dark eyes upwards. "'ey, Peter, you're hoggin' the rear view mirror again. Get outta there." Slimer, floating along in the front seat under Ray's invitation, parroted Winston's irritation, babbling something indistinct at the psychologist.

Peter, who was leaning far over in the back seat, rolled his eyes, and put away the small black comb he was using to straighten his dark locks. He adjusted his brown sportjacket a bit. "I'm sure Mrs. C just wants to tell the mayor she's gonna use her position to hand us the city keys or something," he said confidently, moving away from his reflection.

"Well, at least they'll expect us to be fashionably late whenever there's something important going on!" chimed in Ray, sitting aside Winston. "Because _somebody_ in the back seat," he added, rolling his eyes, "spent so much time preening himself that that's exactly what we're going to be!"

"Heeeeey," purred Peter. "This is important. We do work for the public after all, yanno."

"Speaking of bein' late," interjected Winston. "Where _were_ you last night? You didn't get in until we were all done for the night, Pete."

Peter sat back in the seat, and crossed his legs. "Ohhh…nuthin'," he said, with an innocent-sounding lilt of musicality in his speech. "Just…got an offer to keep someone company for a bit."

"Yeah, surrrre," said Winston his words dripping with sarcasm. "_Nuthin'_."

Janine turned down a corner of her mouth. "One thing's for sure…the public sure didn't have a choice on what to do with that skirted waste of taxes that walked in the door two days ago!"

"This nonsense will resolve itself when Mrs. Cosser informs her organization of our top-notch work," said Egon irritatedly, pushing back his black dress jacket to glance at the time on his wrist. "I'm sure she is the main catalyst in coercing other parenting groups, aside her own, to apply political pressure on the mayor. The mayor is simply addressing the concerns of the public should they make any more authorized entertaining material based on our lifestyle."

"Well, I say that after what she's seen of our lifestyle," began Winston, "we'll have a squeaky clean slate after today, and we can get down to gettin' rid of all that caution tape around the containme—"

_CRASH!_

…went something right aside of Winston, and the Ecto-1 shook in protest.

Rolling down the window in an instant, Winston leaned far out, glaring daggers at the sportscar that had just sideswiped them. "HEY! That red Jag just hit Ecto-1! That's ridiculous!" he cried. "How can you _do _that with an XJS, let alone to another person's car like that?" The Jaguar rounded the same corner they were waiting to clear.

"Relax, Zed, when we get there, I got the plate number riiiight up here," said Peter, pointing to his temple with a wink. "You can report it when we get there." He frowned, looking back out the window. "And I saw that the driver had some goofy purple jacket on with a plaid pattern. I couldn't miss it. Talk about someone needing some fashion sense. If I could afford one of those, I'd pay to get some."

Winston rested his head on his free arm while rounding the corner, and looking for a place to park. "We just put so much work into 'er. Ray. So much work," he sighed, though being grateful for Peter's quick eyes. "But at least we have a plate."

Finding a spot large enough for the now slightly re-damaged Ecto-1, they all stepped out, and headed toward the entrance of the government building which was to hold their conference.

Ray was the last to step out, and he idled by the car door, gazing intently at a point far down and across the street. "Hey, there's a red Jaguar parked there!" he called to them as they arose on the front stairs. "Peter, you said, a loud purple jacket? There's one over there too!"

Peter turned, and Winston shot back down the building's front stairs for a look. There was Mr. Loud Jacket, talking to someone, completely obscured every now and then by the thick throng of people passing by on the sidewalks.

Peter pointed his finger at Slimer. "Hey! Go get 'im Slimer. Cover 'im head to toe for me!"

Slimer only crossed his little arms, stuck out his tongue, and blew a long raspberry at Peter, making Peter turn red with rage. "Any other day you'd do that to any of us! But because _I _asked you to you won't?" he pointed sternly at the green ghost. "You don't play fair, Spud! You don't play fair _at all_!"

"Don't worry, Pete, I'm gonna feel much better settling this myself anyway!" said Winston, the crowd again covering sight of the perpetrator. "That wasn't only sideswipin', but it was also leavin' the scene of an accident!"

Before the large dark man could step foot onto the street, the crowd dispersed, and he was nowhere to be found.

"Dangit!" cursed Winston under his breath, pocketing his hands into his dress slacks. "I'm gonna have to settle for a police call for now."

And with that, the six of them headed in the building, and up to the meeting room.

* * *

The cold meeting room the Ghostbusters group stepped into was entirely functional, and obviously nothing more. A long, rectangular, pale-yellow-colored wooden table was in its center, and also was its only large piece of furniture. Uncomfortable-looking, matching plastic chairs were set in neat, straight rows aside of it. On one side of the table already sat Mrs. Cosser, dressed in a black, skirted power suit. She had her notebook, now filled with handwritten notes, lying open in front of her, right aside of the now-too-familiar pink pen. A few very official-looking men and women, similarly very formally suited, were seated to her right, the spaces on the table in front of each of them heavily laden with paperwork and notes.

Peter was the first to enter, and slouched heavily into the chair directly opposite Mrs. Cosser. Inspecting the formality of their current outfits, Peter thought it was amusing that the only one of the Ghostbusters group that could be said to be similarly intimidatingly dressed, was Dr. Egon Spengler. He grinned. _As always._

Following Peter were Egon and Janine, who made sure she was to sit next to her beloved, and Ray. Lastly, Winston, who had entered a bit late due to making the phone call to the police, sat himself in the chair at the end, opposite a still-empty seat on the other side.

Winston leaned in to Ray. "Where's Slimer?" he whispered above the quiet background noise of the room.

Ray whispered back. "He went off to look around on his own. I don't we would be able to keep him in this room for more than five minutes without him getting bored out of his mind anyway!"

Winston nodded in agreement. "Yeah, the last place he wants to be is a stuffy meeting in a room that doesn't even have a bowl of lollipops to keep 'im quiet."

Mrs. Cosser glanced down the long table to her right. "Well, I see we are missing one so far here, however, I will begin the discussion anyway, as I'm sure Mr. Brenski will be here at any moment."

Janine turned down her mouth, and promptly got out her own notebook and pen, and scribbled some quick shorthand at the top of a lined page, kicking a foot under the table irritatedly.

Mrs. Cosser noticed Janine's stern look as the redhead wrote a few characters only she and Egon could understand. "I am sure taking notes in this meeting will not be necessary, Miss Melnitz. This will be very brief, and nothing that goes on here will be set in stone until you sign official legal contracts with animation or movie companies. This is only to give some advice as to how to—"

"—you took your notes, and now I'll take mine," snapped back Janine unpolitically, not even deigning to look up at her as she wrote. "That's my _job_, yanno."

The blonde woman straightened in her chair, her eyes crackling at Janine's sharp words. She sideglanced the exotic-looking, curly-haired woman sitting next to her, who seemed to take a very strange, special interest in continually glaring darkly at Janine like an olive-skinned tigress, as if she had something calculated to say, and was ready to pounce at the right time because of it. The curly-haired woman hooked one of her chin-length black locks behind her ear, and pouted her thick red lips.

Mrs. Cosser turned toward the rest of the room after briefly smiling broadly at Peter, who unabashedly winked back. "Well! I, as the chairwoman of Women Advocating Age-appropriate Animation in the Home, or WAAAH, I have called all of you to this meeting to discuss what important issues need to be kept in mind when adapting the lives and work of the Ghostbusters, here at the table, into either an animated series, or a second movie script." She spread a hand out toward those seated down her right side. "Here we have a few more esteemed members of WAAAH, a representative for the mayor, who had a previous engagement and could not attend, and Mr. Brenski at the end will represent the TV station that is looking to carry the animated series should a contract for one be sought."

She flipped through a few of ther notes. "Now the the interior of the Ghostbusters firehouse relatively will match what children will be expecting to see when the new series begins to air, we may begin working on other aspects of their industry. First thing is—"

Peter nodded. "Thank you, Mrs. Cosser. It gives me great pleasure to have been referred to as having an industry all to ourselves." He smiled broadly.

Mrs. Cosser grinned back, and looked to her right again. "As I was saying, first thing is, that the call to the Ghostbusters I have personally overviewed, is rather par for its course considering what Dr. Venkman has told me. Before I get into the details of the operations, such as how to take phone calls, how to greet visitors at the door, how to politely and properly answer the phone, and certain interpersonal issues, I would like it to be known that the call I supervised was completely inappopriate for adaptation into an animated episode suitable for children. I suggest that a full-time consultant be hired to navigate and therefore eliminate action on those calls which would be either damaging or disturbing to young minds."

"Well, we do have a secretary to filter out the calls that would be disturbing to _our _minds," said Winston with a laugh, elbowing Ray next to him. The auburn-haired occultist nodded.

The door to the meeting room clicked softly…and Winston's eyes shot wide open upon seeing the man that walked through the entry.

He was a short, balding man…in a loud purple jacket, with offensive rainbow-colored striped running through it.

Ray's eyes turned to their corners, toward Winston, a silent _uh-oh!_ on his lips.

He made his way through the room, and sat down in the seat opposite Winston. The dark man tolerated his presence for no more than a moment or two before he leapt up from his chair. "Hey! You own a red Jag, don't you?" he said, pointing at the man, now known to the room as Brenski.

Brenski looked back suspiciously at Winston. "Yeah, Yeah I do. What gives aboudit?"

Winston slapped his hands on the desk. "You're the one that sideswiped the Ecto-1! I'm making another call and tellin' the cops that I got your name now!" Winston adjusted his jacket, and got up from his chair, and hurriedly made his way out of the room. "They should be here soon to do some paperwork, anyway!" he said, and before closing the door behind him, he added with a quick thumbs-up, "I'm sure the rest of you guys will be fine without me!"

Peter returned his gesture, and soon enough, Brenski was out of his seat, fast to follow him out the door, pleading and begging him to let him off the hook. They both disappeared into the hallway, and were not seen again.

Ruffled for a moment, Mrs. Cosser recovered, and continued. "I also suggest that there should be a small group of children, trained to accompany the Ghostbusters on missions, until they can fully do all the required work that these gentlemen do in the field. They can be called something like 'the Mini-Busters', and this will make for a nice opportunity to draw children in to the episodes."

Ray's eyebrows shot up. "I dunno, ma'am, it takes a lot of training to be able to do what we do. Janine here can vouch for that. And even _we _were hitting our own heads against a proverbial brick wall trying to keep ourselves in one piece…until Winston," he said, thumbing the door, "who just left us, started giving us some martial arts and self-defense lessons. I don't think kids should be doing our work at all."

Undaunted, Mrs. Cosser raised her brows also. "And this will be the purpose of assigning a consultant, to weed out those jobs that will not be done due to the impropriety such jobs will create in young minds."

"We can make an allowance for this in any contract we sign, however, we will also be doing dangerous missions, as they ensure the safety of this island, and, in some instances, the known world. We can simply add a clause in the contract that we will not willingly make disturbing missions public or take along any unauthorized persons while doing so." Egon frowned while speaking, but still managed to keep his irritation in check, and his voice spoke smoothly despite his furrowed brow.

The occultist sighed. "Well, if we _must _have kids along with us, _some_ of the time, I do have a name of a pretty good kid to start with. How 'bout Kenny Fenderman?" asked Ray, looking over to Peter. Peter gave a nod, and a thumbs-up. "We all think that little guy pretty much earned his place as a Junior Ghostbuster."

"Oh, no, Dr. Stantz. The City will approve of any children taking part in any missions with you. They will also strive to create a well-rounded, multicultural, and entirely politically correct focus group of children who you will be able to aid in your work."

Ray's brow dropped almost to the floor in concern. "Now wait a minute. Kenny's a good kid! And besides…_we_ are gonna help _them_? Are you crazy?" He shook his head in disbelief. "I don't have a problem with teaching 'em some neat things about paranormal research or electronics, because heck, I thought it was all neat too—which is how I'm here today. But Dr. Venkman, Dr. Spengler and I built this business from absolutely nothing except a few outrageously expensive loans and our own ingenuity." He crossed his arms across his green vest. "And I don't like your language, because it's like handing over the reigns of this business to a bunch of kids, strangers, picked at the City's descretion!"

As Janine scribbled furiously, Egon leaned over to his left to see what she was writing. He translated the shorthand she was writing to read: _The…_something illegible to him…_blonde then insisted we teach some State-approved kids how to blow up the containment unit faster than you can say, "heat them up". _ Quietly he whispered in Janine's ear what the mystery word meant, and she wrote above it, in large English letters, the word _DIPSTICK._ Egon raised his eyebrows and gasped in shock with a quiet "oh", then returned his attention to Ray and Mrs Cosser.

Mrs. Cosser leaned forward. "Dr. Stantz, I understand your concern. However, this will be necessary in bridging the generation gap to younger viewers! Having them do missions themselves will teach children that—"

Ray humphed. "You either let us pick the kids that are gonna do this, and the terms, or don't use this idea entirely, _or _change your language. Or…or I'm leaving this room!"

"Dr. Stantz, as a representative of women and mothers, I cannot budge on this important issue."

"Then…I gotta leave." He got up from his chair, turned to Peter with a deep apology, and told Egon that he was sure the physicist could think of a happy medium that he himself could not right now. "I'm sorry it didn't work out better, Mrs. Cosser."

He opened the door, and a woman rushed in the room before Ray could exit. "Mr. Smith! There's a little green…ghost!…down on the west wing of the first floor causing quite an uproar with a few children!" she breathed. "They say their father is with them, but he lost sight of them when they ran off with the ghost!"

"Oh no!" said one of the men sitting at the long table. "That's where my office is!"

"Mine too!" said the round-faced woman aside him. "Dr. Venkman?"

"Don't worry, we'll be _riiiight_ on it."

They ran out the door, taking two more people with them. Sure enough, it was only Mrs. Cosser and the dark-haired woman left at the opposite side of the table.

Mrs. Cosser rolled her eyes. "That sounds like my children. Their father really needs to put a better effort toward keeping those boys in line! I betcha they started this trouble!" She smiled to everyone in the room in turn. "But I guarantee, they're nothing but little angels when they're not like that!"

"Sure," growled Janine under her breath.

Not hearing the comment, the blond woman sat up straighter. "Another issue that needs to be addressed is the subject of…how do I put this delicately…_romance_…at the workplace."

Egon's eyes went wide. Janine cocked an eyebrow, her hand frozen from writing.

"This is entirely inappropriate, and will be sure to warp little minds should they see this on-screen. I suggest the Ghostbusters seek out a person who will handle the everyday domestic duties who is not so personally involved with the other members of the business."

"Hold it, lady, you just said they should fire me and hire a new secretary!" shot Janine, pointing her finger at Mrs. Cosser. She looked to her right up at Egon, his brows lowered quite a bit, and he shifted _very_ uncomfortably.

"If that is not an option, I can suggest some basic, very easy to implement modifications to her appearance that would make her more suited to a young audience. First, let's start with your glasses, Miss Melnitz. They're rather pointy, and that could potentially damage small minds to the point of irrecoverability!*"

Janine could hear a deep, quiet, unconscious _growl _from the blonde man seated next to her.

"Oh, that might be an effort in futility," said the curly-haired woman aside of Mrs. Cosser. "You might remember me from school, Janine. I'm Eve Burns," she said with a devilish grin. "I certainly remember you. I, and my _large _circle of of good friends, always made it a point how you could improve your luck with the boys from practically _nothing _to anything you wished, and all you had to do was look a little better!"

The secretary 's eyes shot wide open for a moment in realization. That's why this woman was so intently staring at her!

"I did do some reasearch into your past history, Miss Melnitz," added Mrs. Cosser, smiling darkly. "It was a wonderful coincidence that I found someone like Eve in this very building! I've made her an honorary member of WAAAH for her troubles in making time to come to the meeting today."

Janine's hands shot up in the air. "That was fifteen years ago! Who the hell cares about all that stuff now? What difference does it make?"

"It makes a world of difference." Eve folded her hands neatly on the desk. "And now I have a wonderful, stable and high-paying governmental position for my diligence on making the right connections with the right people!"

Janine started open mouthed at the two women across from her. "I cannot believe this. Dr. Venkman, open your mouth and say somethin'!" she said, her voice breaking, tears threatening to form in her eyes. "This broad with a ring on her finger has been flirting with _you_ since the second she walked into the firehouse, and now she's accusing _me_ of being too romantic at the workplace!" She turned to Eve again. "So who'd _you _sleep with to get your job? I wanna know, Evie!" A tear fell out of an eye, which she couldn't wipe away fast enough. All the bad memories were crashing mercilessly back into her consciousness. And all this said, right in front of Egon.

Before Peter could say a word, Eve was already talking. "Janine, dear, you were always so difficult for us to deal with! Always with your nose in a book, wearing such tacky jewelry, wearing those oddly-shaped glasses! It was amazing that anyone would have given you the time of day!" She crossed her arms. "I guess the chess club was good for something after all."

Mrs Cosser continued. "Janine, think of the children here. Just a few changes, little by little, and we'll get you looking like—"

"Unacceptable," growled Egon thorugh his teeth, now rising from his seat. "This conversation is nothing but unacceptable! I relieve myself and, most importantly, our secretary of your impertinent presence." Not removing his glare for both Mrs. Cosser and Eve, he grasped Janine's hand, and lifted it, indicating to her to stand up. She did so, with a whisper of his name. He wrapped an arm tightly around her waist, and began escorting her firmly toward the door. "You may take your childish, noxious vindiction elsewhere besides your involvement with our business as far as I am concerned. I will sign no such paperwork should I see your names inscribed on any contract whatsoever, and I will immediately begin efforts to remove your nonsensical visual adjustments to our base of operations." He glanced down at the woman he was holding. "Janine, let's proceed to the egress of this conglomerate of governmental facilities and ascertain the whereabouts of Raymond and Winston in the process."

A sighed "Oh…Egon…" could be heard from Janine as he opened the door for her, and she stepped through it first. It gave the infurated physicist a chance to give the two suited women in the room another glacial glare before stepping over the threshold, and closing the door.

"Gee…they're droppin' like flies, aren't they?" said Peter to Mrs. Cosser with a cool smirk.

Eve arose from her seat. "You promised that I could be her boss if this meeting worked, and I don't see that happening anytime soon, Justine. I will leave the rest of the deliberations up to you and Dr. Venkman about this in the hopes the two of you can put this awful mess in a much neater package than it is now."

"That sounds good, dear Eve. When I have the meeting completed, we can begin work on our next project—taming down that awful, cookie-addicted blue monster puppet from that other children's show!"

"Sounds wonderful," said Eve with a grin. Her heels clicked on the floor, and, when she left, Peter and Mrs. Cosser were the only ones left in the room.

For the first time, the very attractive blond woman seemed a bit embarassed. "Dr. Venkman," she began, searching for words to say, raking a hand through her luxuriously long hair. "_Peter_…I...I hope you can speak to your men and your secretary about…about how wise it would be to take my advice in this matter. I—I—"

Bobbing his head up and down, he smiled reassuringly, and held up a hand. "No problem. I'll…_talk_ to all of 'em…later." He got up out of chair, and paced over to take a chair right aside of Mrs. Cosser.

She shuffled some papers around. "I hope we can talk about…_us_…more. Last night would have been soooo perfect if my huband's friend didn't need to come over for that lengthy discussion about his contribution to WAAAH." She sideglanced him, smiling. "I'd like for us to try it again, if you don't mind."

"I'd looove to try it again…_Justine_. Tonight. Ya know, all that anticipation really hurts a man when nothing happens."

"I—I know," she said, shyly looking down at her paperwork again. "I'm sure that I can prove to you…tonight…that I'd make a wonderful secretarial addition to your business!"

"And I'm suuuuure it'll break Hubby's heart when he finds out you're going nowhere but downhill, income wise."

Mrs. Cosser straightened in shock, her eyes wide. "Wh—what do you mean, Peter?"

Peter took Mrs. Cosser's delicate hand in his, forcing her to drop some papers into a messy pile on the desk. "Just think!" he said with terrifying intimacy. "How will Hubby afford that four-level home by himself if your pay gets cut that much? Why, maybe I can talk to him and tell him to pull a couple loans in advance out of the bank when you start answering phones for us."

"Peter!" she panted. "My husband…isn't an issue in this! He's just…"

Peter released her hand, and held a finger to her lips, and a long, quiet _shhh_ slipped from his lips as he held a finger to his own, and brought his brows down. "Justine, honey. It's ooooonly fair. You let that paperwork and little remodeling job of yours go faaaaar away, and whip up a full and clear note to the mayor that my business is just peachy-keen the way it was before you got there, and I can assure you that Dear Hubby, the tabloids, and the rest of the press won't have aaaaaaany idea that I've been propositioned, twice now, from Hubby's cute little woman."

Mrs. Cosser went so pale, Peter thought for a moment that she was going to pass out. "You—you wouldn't! Peter! Please! It was meant to be!"

"Of course, I compeltely agree with you. And now, I must piece back together my ghostbusting business, and you must write that wonderful letter to the mayor, praising our business, and saying how important it is to revoke your involvement and implore the City not to change a damned thing about it." He released her hand, and threw his palms up, as if to say he was sorry that she had just lost a large gambling debt at a poker table. "Seeeeeee, Justine? It's soooooo easy!"

He got up from his chair, and softly opened the door. Looking back at her terrified face, he winked. "You ever wanna do a little rendevous ever again, _you know my number_."

The door shut, and Mrs. Justine Cosser was left alone in the room, terrified of what she just heard. She got up unsteadily from her seat, and due to her shock, unsteadily walked over to the window, feeling sick every step of the way. Looking down on the street, she could see that enragingly disrespectful, short, red-headed secretary, and the tall blond man were kissing deeply in the street.

Her terror turned to fury as he looked down on them.

"You just wait, Melnitz!" breathed Mrs. Cosser viciously, making delicate little fists with her elegant hands, watching Janine and Egon with jealousy that filled every last fiber of her being. "I'm sure you planned all this! I'm letting my good friends Bill, Dan, and Harry about what you're really like! _And I'll—I'll make sure you get what's coming to you in the second movie script we're planning_!"

She noticed a green object hurtling at her, almost too quick to the eye.

Hurtling… At her…

"Missussssssss Cosssssssssser visssssit againnnnnnnn!" yelled Slimer…

…her eyes went wide…

…flying directly…_at her!_

…

...

_SPLAT!_

* * *

*-seriously. This was the reason given IN REAL LIFE to change the shape of Janine's glasses in later seasons. Can you believe it?

Note: Hope you enjoyed. Stay "Real", folks! ^_^


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